


Prosetober | Ada Limón | Under her raincoat

by Simon_snows_pitch



Series: Prosetober: 31 days of Carry On [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: F/F, Gen, Post-Canon, could be read as gen or pre-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simon_snows_pitch/pseuds/Simon_snows_pitch
Summary: This Prosetober, I'm following prompts collected by drawingdawnarts.tumblr.com. Each new prompt will be added to my Prosetober series!Agatha has a gift for Penny.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Agatha Wellbelove, Penelope Bunce/Agatha Wellbelove
Series: Prosetober: 31 days of Carry On [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953499
Kudos: 5
Collections: Agatha Wellbelove fics





	Prosetober | Ada Limón | Under her raincoat

Simon and Shepard have been talking animatedly about American football for the last five minutes, and it’s like I’ve all but vanished. Leave it to those two to enjoy talking about something so painfully dull. I don’t really mind it, if I’m honest. Si could always use more friends, and Shep? Well, Shep seems to make friends with anyone, but he just _fits_ so well here. I can’t bear to think of the day we solve his curse and jumps on a flight home. Maybe he’ll stay. 

I’m pulled out of my thoughts as Agatha pockets her mobile and asks how long I think Baz will be with the check. As if on cue, he strides out and catches a snatch of the football conversation before he lets out a dramatic sigh that could be heard from beyond the Veil. Honestly. 

“Shall we then?” Baz asks pointedly, taking Simon’s hand. He turns his collar up and begins leading us toward the flat. Agatha and I fall into step together on the sidewalk. I feel like this is an appropriate time for small talk, but I’m not sure what to say. She seems to have a lot on her mind these days. I suppose moving to another country to abandon your culture, getting dragged into a science-y vampire pyramid scheme, nearly dying (again), and being guilted into moving back with your family could put a damper on anyone’s mood. Although she really should be embracing the World of Mages instead of running, not that she listens when I tell her so. 

What would I even ask? I’ve never had trouble talking to anyone before, not really. But she’s made it so clear that she doesn’t want to be here – in this country, in our World. Maybe she didn’t even want to be at brunch. 

Perhaps Agatha is more perceptive than I give her credit for, as she turns to me and says, “sorry for being so quiet at breakfast. I’ve just... been thinking.” 

Thank Morgana I didn’t have to say something first. “Yes, you were” — she frowns at me — “not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course! I was just wondering what was on your mind is all. Do you want to talk about it?” 

If nothing else, Agatha carries herself with a level of poise and composure that could put the Queen to shame. So when she starts worrying at the hem of her coat, I know something is really wrong. What could possibly be so upsetting that she’d _fidget_? 

“Penny, we’ve been friends for a while now,” she says in a hushed voice. Ha! We are friends! “I was thinking about your ring – or, I suppose, that you don’t have one anymore.” (I slide my fingers over the cool gemstone hidden in my skirt pocket and ache forms in my chest.) “I know that it’s tradition for your magickal artefact to come from your family. But I wondered...” she lets the would-be sentence hang. 

I wait for her to continue. When she starts worrying at the hem of her jacket again, I bump shoulders with her. “What were you wondering, Agatha?” 

In response, she catches my elbow and pulls me under a nearby eave. The boys keep walking – Baz has joined in the debate, and they’re oblivious to the fact that we’re not with them anymore. I turn my attention back to Agatha. She lowers her hood and slides her hands underneath her hair at the base of her neck. 

“What are you...?” 

She pulls her hands away and produces a necklace from under her raincoat. Holding it out for me to inspect, she replies, “this belonged to my great-grandmother Helen. I didn’t know her, but she was a powerful magician. She had it all – family, wealth, status – but this was what she used to cast. She had a gem in the front, just here, but my grandma removed it and placed it into a different necklace. I know,” she says, catching my surprised glance, “it’s very unorthodox. She had her reasons, I suppose. 

“You see, Helen was married. To a man, of course. But her first artefact was destroyed when she was quite young. Her husband gifted her a new one, a spoon of all things, but she could never cast with it, nor any other artefact she received. It wasn’t until her best friend, Molly, gave her this necklace with an inlaid stone that she was able to cast properly again. I guess it was quite an affair, back in the day – a Mage being tied so closely to another Mage that wasn’t a relation. But it worked for her. For them.” 

I think I see where Agatha’s going with this, but I can’t go there, too. If I do that, I’ll cry, and I am not going to cry in the middle of town at 11 in the morning. I simply won’t. But heat’s building up behind my eyes anyway, the traitors. 

“As I said, grandma removed the stone from Helen’s necklace to create her own, but this – well, it’s still very much intact. Made of white gold, too. And actually,” she pauses to fiddle with it for a moment, “it’s a locket. The front holds a stone, and there are two middle pieces. One holds photographs, of course, and the other one is this rather old but charming timepiece.” 

I search Agatha’s face and hope desperately that she’ll make eye contact with me. I need to see... well, I don’t know what I need to see, but I’m sure I could find it in her eyes. She seems determined to do anything but look at me and is still yammering on about the locket. Her porcelain face is positively flushed. Is she cold? 

“... so I don’t know if it’s really even your style. I mean, there’s nothing magickal about the locket itself, not that I can tell anyway, but I wondered if perhaps, you might, I don’t know... like it?” Agatha bites her lip and then finally, _finally_ looks up at me. 

“Do I—?” My voice catches and I’d probably be embarrassed if I wasn’t too busy being a whole host of other things. Like touched and confused and grateful and confused and happy and, again, confused. “It’s,” I begin. What do I even say? “It’s absolutely beautiful, Aggie.” 

She smiles a bit at that, and I realise it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile all day. “So, what do you think?” she asks me earnestly. “Would you like to see if your gem fits?” Tears are pooling at the corners of my eyes, but I guess maybe that’s okay. In answer, I pull the gem out of my pocket. 

Agatha holds out her hand. “May I?” I nod and place my beloved stone in her hand. She carefully guides it into place, slotting it underneath the tines. I don’t even have to look to know it’s a perfect match.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've never written just Agatha and Penny, or Agatha/Penny. Please leave any feedback you might have about how well (or poorly) this went haha


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